


Seeds

by Cecilia (ceciliaregent), ceciliaregent



Series: Porphyry [2]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, True Love, Vampires, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceciliaregent/pseuds/Cecilia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceciliaregent/pseuds/ceciliaregent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandoval did a little research over the offseason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophiahelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/gifts).



> Because sophiahelix and I both really like the idea of Sandoval and Casilla, amateur and slightly bumbling vampire hunters, and because I thought Tim deserved a little lighthearted coda after all that heartrending angst.

_April 8, 2011: San Francisco_

When Tim comes out of the showers, naked except for his shoes and rubbing his hair dry with a towel, Sandoval's chanting, something soft and musical in Spanish, and Casilla's scattering a handful of sunflower seeds in a wide arc around Tim's locker. 

"What the fuck?" he says, and Casilla jumps, looking guilty, but Pablo just looks determinedly straight ahead and keeps going with his chant, totally ignoring Tim. Tim guesses whatever it is, it's important to him, so he shrugs and ties the towel around his waist and settles down on the chair at Buster's locker to wait until they're done.

It's only a few minutes until Pablo finishes, and when he looks up and sees where Tim's sitting his eyes get big. 

"Uh, Timmy," he says, and stops, looking awkward. 

"What the fuck," Tim says again, but mildly. Now that they're done doing -- whatever -- he goes to his locker and pulls down deodorant and boxers.

Casilla scratches the back of his neck, and now Tim's starting to get annoyed. Just before he says something, though, Pablo flicks his eyes back and forth and sighs and says, "Uh, last fall, we saw the -- you know." When he taps two fingers just under his left ear, Tim's heart stops in his chest.

He knows it's important not to say anything real, he knows at least that much, so he stalls for time, raises his eyebrows and nods slowly, but his heart picks up and he's got to stop that, get it down before Buster hears him and comes in from the field. He takes a slow breath and holds it for a second, trying not to make it obvious. _Calm, calm, everything's fine._

"So?" he says, finally, when it's clear that neither of them is gonna do anything but stare at him meaningfully. 

Pablo rolls his eyes. "So, don't have to be a _cazadora_ to know a bite when I see one." 

Tim doesn't know that word, but it doesn't really matter. He shrugs. "Yeah, it was a good night, what can I say."

Casilla presses his lips together. "Vampire, Timmy," he says, and even though his English is usually ok, he pronounces the word carefully, like he's not comfortable with it in his mouth. Tim knows the feeling.

Well, it's out on the table now. Tim goes back to dressing, because he'd rather not be standing around without pants on right now, especially not if he can't keep his pulse down and Buster does show up. "All right," he says, not looking at them, and again, "So?"

" _So_ ," Sandoval says, "It took a while to find out, because it wasn't Burrell --"

"Oh shit," Tim interrupts, because that's fucking hilarious. "You thought it was _Burrell_? No fucking way, do you know where he's been?"

Pablo grins. "Yeah, yeah."

Casilla clears his throat. " _Ser graves_ ," he says to Pablo, who sighs and does look serious, like Tim's hardly ever seen him; he's pretty much always had a smile on his face, even when they're getting blown out, except last October.

"So anyway, when I was home this winter I asked my uncle's friend, and he told me how to find out, and what to do, and we, uh, in Arizona, we...watched."

"What did you watch," Tim says, getting angry now. What he and Buster do is _private_ and --

"No, no," Pablo says, shaking his head. "We just kept an eye out on you, where you went, until we knew who it was."

"OK," Tim says slowly, finishing the buttons on his shirt to buy himself time while he thinks. They don't look like they've got stakes stashed away somewhere, which is good, but -- "What's with the--?" he says, gesturing at the mess on the floor.

It's hard to tell but he thinks Pablo's blushing. "It's, it won't keep him away if you want him there. But if you, you know, if you don't, then the air knows, and he can't come. Even if you tell him yes he can't, if you don't want it."

Huh. "Thanks," he says, and means it. It's kind of nice that they care that much, care enough to keep thinking about it all winter while they played for other teams.

There's beginning to be clattering from the direction of the tunnel, like the guys from the workout group are starting to finish up out there, pack up their gear to come in, and Casilla pushes his foot through the seeds, scattering them so they don't look purposeful anymore, then gives Tim one more look and heads across the clubhouse to his own locker. Tim guesses whatever they did, it's set now. He's pretty sure Buster's gonna need to eat before the game, and he doesn't want him going out for someone else, so he grabs his duffel and puts it on his chair, starts packing up. Pablo looks at him anxiously.

"You...you ok, Timmy?" he says, after a minute. "I mean...you ok?"

Tim's not sure what to say for a second. He's never talked about Buster with anyone before. But he guesses if Pablo knows already, he might as well tell him. "Yeah," he says. "It's good, we're good. He's good." He blushes himself and shifts, a little, the way he always does when he thinks about what it's like, when Buster's hand settles in his hair, when Buster's fangs slide out, when he sees it, deep in Buster's eyes, the aching hunger Buster kept at bay for _years_ , waiting for him. Pablo must be reassured, because he leers, and Tim rolls his eyes and shoves him, and then the guys come in from the field, bringing gusts of the cool spring breeze along with them. It sends the hollow husks of the seeds at Tim's feet swirling across the floor.

Buster comes right over to him, and he doesn't seem to feel anything in the air. There's a faint line between his brows though, and he touches Tim with one finger, too light and quick for most anyone to notice, except maybe Pablo, who's looking at them from his own locker, three down. "You OK?" he says. "I thought maybe...." 

Tim smiles at him. "I'm fine," he says. "Just got startled for a second, that's all. You wanna go out and grab something?"

Buster's eyes darken, so yeah, he's hungry. "Sure," he says, and he sounds like he doesn't really care either way, but Tim knows better. 

"So let's go," he says. He wonders if he can get Buster to bruise him again.


End file.
